Mail-Order Groom (11 page)

A
s bad luck would have it, Savannah's wedding was delayed.

Not because someone objected to the ceremony. Not because someone turned up, as Savannah had half feared, and exposed her as a scandalous “Ruthless Reed.” Not even because she or her fiancé got cold feet. The reason for the delay was simpler than that. A new member of the minister's congregation arrived on the doorstep with a shout, carrying a whiskey bottle in one hand and a bundle of mining claim paperwork in the other, and announced his intention to find “the sweet love of the Lord”—a task for which he insisted he needed the minister's help right then.

The miner, however, had the misfortune of expressing his eagerness to be saved by waving around his arms in an erratic manner. His gesture earned him a thundering tackle from—of all people—Savannah's civilized, Eastern-bred, mail-order groom.

Caught in a chokehold beneath Adam's elbow, the man
yelped. Confused and surprised, he dropped his whiskey bottle.

It shattered on the anteroom floor, sending liquor fumes into the air. The minister and his wife, their two witnesses, and Savannah all stepped backward, staring in surprise. Savannah blinked, scarcely able to fathom how Adam had moved so quickly.

For a deskbound telegraph operator, he was surprisingly light on his feet—akin to the dancers she'd met and watched perform during her days onstage in New York City…only more dangerous seeming. Roughly, Adam hauled the man to his feet.

“I'm sorry! I surrender!” The miner's bewildered gaze swung around to the minister. He held up his arms in surrender. “I swear, Padre. I didn't know the Almighty was so hard up for followers that He was getting 'em like this! I was comin' here of my own free will, to thank Him for my new mining strike.”

“Who sent you?” Adam demanded.

“Nobody!” the man said. “Nobody sent me.”

Adam gave the miner a hard jerk. “Try again.”

“Well, maybe my lady friend, Lucille, sent me, in a way, I mean,” the man blubbered. “She always was on me to mend my ways, God rest her.” With panicky eyes, he gazed around the anteroom. His attention lit on the minister with his bible, the pair of wide-eyed witnesses, the minister's wife and then Savannah—with her modest bouquet of wildflowers and fancy dress—in turn. “Oh. I'm sorry, Padre. I seem to be interruptin' something here.”

His manner turned unexpectedly contrite, which baffled their entire sextet. Everyone remained silent, unsure what to do in this unusual situation. Adam still appeared fairly murderous, Savannah observed, like he had on the road when meeting the erstwhile Curtis Bedell. She wasn't at all
certain what to do, either. She settled on behaving in a way that best befit a reader of the
Guide to Correct Etiquette and Proper Behavior
handbook. Civilly she inclined her head to greet the man.

“That's quite all right,” she said. “We hadn't even started yet. Please don't trouble yourself any further, Mr….?”

As a hint, she raised her eyebrows, the way Mose did when reminding her to mend some lapse in propriety. Adam, evidently curious about the man's name as well, gave him another jerk.

“The lady wants an answer,” he said.

“H-Haywood.” Casting a sidelong glance at Adam, the miner nervously bobbed his head. “It's Mr. Jedediah Haywood, ma'am.”

“Well. I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Haywood.” Savannah gave Adam what she hoped was a subtle hint to release the man. Adam merely frowned at her. “Would you like to attend our wedding? We have plenty of room for one more, I assure you.”

Over the man's head, Adam gave a dark scowl. She'd swear his arm tightened against the miner's dirt-smudged neck, too.

“I—I don't think so!” Mr. Haywood said.

Adam nudged him in the ribs. Quickly the miner amended his refusal. “But thank you very kindly all the same, ma'am.”

Appearing satisfied by his deferential tone, Adam nodded.

Exasperated, Savannah approached the pair of them. Gently she took hold of Adam's burly arm, then pried it forcibly away.

“I'm so sorry,” she told to Mr. Haywood. “My fiancé is a bit riled up today, on account of our impending marriage.”

As though in proof of that, Adam scowled more deeply. But he allowed the miner to step free from his grasp—with one further provision. He nodded. “Show me your papers.”

With shaky hands, Mr. Haywood held out his papers.

Squinting, Adam examined them. No one else moved. Likely, Savannah reasoned, they feared being assaulted as well. She smiled pointedly at the minister's wife, hoping to convey the message that Adam wasn't usually violent…merely overcautious.

“Fine.” With a suspicious glare, Adam gestured for the man to put away his claim forms. “You can stay until we're finished, Mr. Haywood. We won't be long. Just keep away from the lady.”

What lady?
Savannah expected Mr. Haywood to ask. After all, there were three women present, including herself. But the look that Adam threw her just then—protective, concerned and utterly besotted—drove the query straight out of her mind. Did Adam, she wondered in surprise, actually
love her
already?

He might, she mused. That would certainly explain his peculiar behavior. In her experience, men weren't always the handiest with tender emotions. In general, they were more likely to express themselves awkwardly. Even Mose, the kindest man she knew, was gruff sometimes. Considering Adam with newfound insight, Savannah watched as her fiancé jerkily straightened Mr. Haywood's waistcoat. With a mumbled apology, Adam brushed off his jacket, too, clearly making amends for his brutish behavior.

Savannah smiled at him in approval. Adam brightened.

Sometimes when she looked at him, Savannah reflected, she had the sense that he would have done anything for her. But just then, for the first time, she felt a glimmer of a
similar emotion herself. Over the past few days, she'd come to know and understand Adam, in person, and she liked what she'd learned. She admired his bravery and fortitude, and she stood in awe of his willingness to take whatever actions were needed in a given situation…regardless of how foolish they might make him seem.

She did feel protected in his presence. And almost beloved, too. Over time, she knew, Adam would settle in and relax.

Uncomfortably aware of the chary looks the others in their nuptial party gave him, Savannah stepped closer to him. “Well. I feel quite confident that no one else will dare to interrupt us now.” Cheerfully she took his arm. “Shall we continue?”

“Woowee!” yelled the miner. “Let's get a wedding on!”

Adam agreed. “My thoughts exactly,” he said with a smile.

He looked gratefully to her for standing by him, and his hand, when it clasped hers, seemed to communicate a powerful sense of solidarity between them, too. This was how it would be, it occurred to Savannah. She and Adam, together against the world, united in love and bonded by the camaraderie they'd begun over the wires and through the mail…then enriched over eggs and toast and innumerable walks together around the station.

She was truly blessed, she reckoned. As soon as she had a good opportunity, she intended to acknowledge that blessing by telling Adam the truth about her past. It was the right thing to do. And yet…Savannah still felt reluctant to risk doing so.

What she needed, she decided, was a dose of Adam's courage. By following his good example, she could avoid
becoming further enmeshed in the lie she was accidentally creating.

The minister cleared his throat, then opened his bible. “My friends and neighbors,” he began. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Savannah Reed and Adam Corwin.”

“Yeehaw!” Mr. Haywood hollered, waving his hat.

A few minutes later, Savannah's wedding was well underway—rowdy evangelical miner included. And while it was true that the whole place smelled strongly of whiskey, and there were two near strangers present as well, none of those things mattered as much to Savannah as did the fond way her handsome groom clasped her hand. Or the way he gazed at her as he promised to love and cherish her. Or the way he stood tall beside her, alert and proud and heartwarmingly attentive to the proceedings.

Savannah stood beside Adam with equal attentiveness, savoring every word and detail as she was saved from her past and properly prepared for her future. She did her utmost to remember everything; that was the only way she could properly relay the story to Mose later. And the moment those crucial words were said—
I now pronounce you man and wife
—Savannah felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Come with me,” she told Adam as she took his hand, just moments after they'd settled things with the minister and thanked everyone. “I have the perfect idea for celebrating.”

 

To Adam's chagrin, Savannah's notion of celebrating meant parading through the streets of Avalanche and informing as many passersby as possible that they were wed. Her announcements were typically greeted with polite nods or bemused smiles and no great fanfare, but Savannah
didn't appear to expect anything more. To the contrary, she seemed downright giddy with the joy of marriage alone. Nothing could dampen her spirits. Even as they continued down Main Street, past the livery where they'd stabled Chester for the night, she didn't tire.

“Hello!” she called out. “We're Mr. and Mrs. Corwin.”

“Howdy.” Her sixteenth target tipped his hat, then scurried away, his boot heels ringing against the raised boardwalk.

“Hello!” Savannah said again. “We're Mr. and Mrs. Corwin.”

“Hello.” The next person smiled. “Welcome to Avalanche.”

“Did you hear that?” After the man had passed, Savannah turned her cheery face to Adam. “Did you hear him say ‘Welcome to Avalanche'? Isn't that
nice?
That must be the tenth—”

“Or seventeenth,” Adam observed more accurately.

“—person we've encountered so far, and not a single one of them has looked askance at us. Not even a little bit.” She sighed, then hugged his arm. “I could do this all day long!”

Adam would rather have shoveled horse patties than continue to confront strangers with their marital status. But Savannah appeared to be enjoying herself. For her sake, he stayed where he was. He even nodded in greeting at her next victim.

“Why would anyone look askance at us?” he asked.

Savannah froze. Then shrugged. “They just…might. Because we're strangers here. You know how people can be sometimes.”

“No.” He guided her onward. “How can they be?”

Adam knew full well. People could be merciless, selfish and devious. His work as a U.S. Marshall and a detective
had taught him that—and more. But Savannah appeared uncomfortable with his question for an entirely different reason than the foibles of human nature. It did not require the best of his investigative prowess to deduce that her slip of the tongue had something to do with the secret she was keeping.

“Tell me,” he urged. “Whatever it is, you can trust me.”

For an instant, Savannah seemed on the verge of doing exactly that. Then she jutted her chin upward. “Unkind, that's how people can be. At least in my experience. But I don't want to talk about it, especially on such a fine day.”

With a determination that bordered on doggedness, she fixed her gaze on the next person who headed toward them. “Hello! We're Mr. and Mrs. Corwin.” Then she spotted someone else and inclined her head. “Hello! We're Mr. and Mrs. Corwin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said a tiny elderly woman.

They were up past twenty exchanges now, but still the woman's response made Savannah beam. It was as though she could not get enough of being greeted and accepted by the townspeople. She hugged Adam's arm, clearly tickled by the proceedings.

“I reckon we could meet 'most everyone in town,” Adam said in a dry tone as they walked past a millinery shop, “if we made a couple more circuits up and down Main Street.”

“Oh! Do you really think so?”

He'd been joking, but Savannah seemed beyond thrilled. He didn't have the heart to disappoint her. He nodded.

“Excellent.” She smiled, then walked onward with new vigor.

“Hello!” she said to the next Avalanche resident they met as they approached a newly erected mercantile. “We're Mr.
and Mrs. Corwin. We're visiting town today from Morrow Creek.”

The shopkeeper looked up from his broom, which he'd been using to sweep up sawdust—likely a remnant of his shop's recent construction. “Nice place, Morrow Creek. My sister lives there.”

At that, Savannah stopped to chat and would not be budged.

Beside her, Adam did his best to keep up with the conversation. Mostly, though, he kept up a lookout for the Bedell brothers, the same way he'd done since he and Savannah had set out on their wedding trip. At any moment, one of those thieving killers could emerge from behind a saloon or thunder down the dusty street on horseback and turn Savannah's day of celebration into a tragedy. More than most people, Adam knew what the Bedells were capable of…and none of it was good.

Not for the first time, he hoped Mariana was safe. He hoped she was working a case far from the Arizona Territory, with a new partner to watch over her. Maybe when Adam was in town with Savannah for Mrs. Finney's tea party, he considered, he could make inquiries about Mariana. Or even wire the agency himself.

He hadn't done so until now, for fear of alerting Savannah or Mose to his true identity. There'd simply been no way to send a message without revealing who he was and why he was there. But if he found himself in town, he could probably do more.

Like track the Bedells and finally bring them to justice.

Newly galvanized by the thought, Adam sent his gaze along the mountainous ridges that made up Avalanche. There were rocky gullies and hiding places everywhere here. Boulders provided good cover for gunfights. Twisting
uphill roads offered perfect ambush spots. Improvidentially, Savannah had chosen one of the worst possible places for their wedding. It would be all too easy for Bedell and his brothers to get to them here.